


I Do Believe I Have Been Changed For the Better

by kayura_sanada



Series: For Good [33]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: BAMF Fenris, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Protective Fenris, Protective Hawke, Return to the Sub-Plot, Spirit Mage Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 15:08:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15512526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: Just as Fenris and Azzan are about to leave Kirkwall, a final enemy takes the stage.





	I Do Believe I Have Been Changed For the Better

Orana nodded slowly. “I… understand.”

He ran a hand through his hair. As usual, it got caught on his hairtie. The sweat from the battle, though mostly dried now, had left his hair enough of a wreck that, even though he wasn’t able to properly push it back, it stayed out of his face, anyway. “You know I’m not trying to abandon you? That I’m not saying you’re a bother or… or anything? I just–”

“I do understand, master,” she said, and grabbed his hand before he could sweep it through his hair again. She caught herself and yanked her hands back, only to blush and grab it again. She smiled up at him. “You worry for me. I will be fine.” Her fingers, though shaking slightly, firmed around his, until she was gripping him tight. “I will take care of the house while you are gone. When you and Master Fenris return, it will be as if you had never left.”

The idea of having someone waiting for him, eager for his return – the idea of coming back one day, perhaps years into the future, only to find his home ready to welcome him back – he bent down and crushed her into a hug. She squeaked, but held him close before he could back away. “Thank you, Orana,” he said, after she made it clear she didn’t mind. “Thank you. So much.”

“You are a good man, master. Some day, the world will understand that.”

That was all he wanted. A chance. To be seen for who he was, not what he was.

When finally they parted, his weren’t the only eyes that shone. Orana wiped the tears away and patted at her make-up. She was trying out the new colors he’d bought her; she seemed to enjoy the bronze eyeshadow with its soft shine. “I made some pasties. You should take them with you.”

“As soon as it’s safe,” he said, “I’ll write to you. I swear it.”

“Then I will practice hard,” she said. She smiled. She had to know that, even with Varric and Aveline looking out for her, she would be very alone. Neither of them knew how she would react to it. She seemed to have a problem with going outside, especially with Kirkwall’s crowds. But who was to say that being alone wouldn’t scare or hurt her just as much as being surrounded?

He hoped she would be all right. He would have to ask Varric to let him know if she needed him to return. He would try to sneak back if necessary; there was, after all, still that secret entrance from Darktown. He could return through there if necessary.

Aegis came into the lobby, having padded out a couple of times through their conversations, likely curious about Fenris. Azzan looked over, as well. He didn’t know exactly how things were going between the himself and his lover. Fenris had chosen to stay by his side despite the decision he’d made to protect mages. He’d even voiced a desire to hear Azzan’s thoughts on the subject. It was the first time Fenris had shown anything but open disdain for the idea of mage freedom. But why was he doing so? Only for Azzan? Was he swallowing his disgust simply because he believed he had no other alternative, now that he was in so deep with Azzan? Did he know Azzan would help him, a necessity at the moment even though he wanted to walk away?

That wasn’t fair. Fenris had told him. He made his own choices. Azzan didn’t get to tell him which to make.

Which meant… Fenris was all right with him? With his activism?

Aegis snarled. The sound made Azzan jump. On instinct, he stepped in front of Orana, his body turning to face where Aegis faced – the door. It jiggled, just for a second, and then, with a crunch, it snapped. The door creaked slightly open. “Orana, get back!” he said, yanking his staff free. She managed one stumbling step before she froze. His hand stopped in place just before he got his staff onto the ground before him.

His heart slammed into overdrive in his chest.

The door opened with a sharp burst. “You needn’t worry.” The voice was that deep, unnatural voice again, but this time – this time, the voice came from someone in mage robes. Robes from the Circle.

Charade had been right.

_Faith!_

The spirit was already there, answering his call before he even voiced it in his mind. It beat against the magic holding him; with her pulsing just beneath his skin, he could feel the demonic magic curled tight around him. Blood magic. He could feel someone else’s blood squeezing him. He shuddered at the feel. Neither he nor Faith liked the sensation.

 _Inamorato_.

Faith was right. Fenris was in the building. This man had shown an interest in Azzan, and with it a deep hatred of Fenris. Where was he? Was he trapped in place, too? Would this man walk right past Azzan and into the house? Would he be forced to listen as this man killed Fenris while he stood helpless in his own home?

The man stepped inside. His cloak sat down along his neck, showing his face for the first time. It was warped slightly; the skin looked twisted, dry almost like aged rock; the eyes lacked pupils. But the black hair, the darker skin – that was clearly Alain.

He sucked in a breath. His lips trembled open. Nothing else, however, moved. His heart thudded heavily. This man. He’d saved him. From the start, Azzan had supported this man. He’d protected him when they’d met in the cave so long ago. And then again, and then again. The man had even used blood magic right in front of him, and he’d thought nothing of it. Small, quiet, submissive – or so he’d thought. And because of that, he’d underestimated him. He’d _befriended_ him. He paled.

Alain smiled. “Hello again, Hawke.”

How should he respond? The man was showing himself, was already using his demon’s powers… “Why are you holding me still?” he asked. He tried to sound calm, unconcerned. His throat nearly closed up in the middle of the sentence.

The man stepped forward. He moved differently than usual, standing straighter, with an aura so altered it felt alien with the familiar features on that face. For the first time, Azzan was seeing Alain for who he truly was. This man, this stranger, touched his cheek. The touch was a flash of heat, so searing it felt cold. Faith flinched away from it, recoiled as if boiling, and shuddered. He felt the spirit acting as if it had been touched by acid and lost his ability to breathe. “I thought you might be in here with _him_. Voracity felt another’s presence in front of the door besides you.” The man turned his smile beyond Azzan’s shoulder. “I see now it was only her. So sorry, little one. You should leave. Your master and I need some time alone.”

A chill raced down his spine at that. Still, he forced himself to speak. “It’s all right, Orana. Go.”

He couldn’t see anything. He wasn’t even certain, at first, that she would be able to leave. She did, however. He heard her soft footfalls as she retreated through the lobby into the house. He hoped she moved under her own willpower and not under the demon’s.

He hoped Fenris was all right.

“She’s a sweet one. It really amazes me what you will do for others.” Alain kept stroking his fingers along his jaw. He and Faith both shuddered at the feel.

“Alain. I passed your test a while ago. You know you don’t have to hold me here.”

Alain’s gaze dripped down to Azzan’s lips, then his neck. He smiled. “You’re right.”

The instant the demon’s touch left him, he slammed his staff on the ground. Just as he’d hoped, Fenris came running into the foyer. Alain managed only a sound of surprise. “Go!” Azzan said, and wrapped his magic around Fenris, into his heart and muscles, until he moved like quicksilver.

Fenris launched himself up, his sword out, face twisted into something nearly demonic. Alain held up his hand and Fenris… stopped dead. Mid-jump. Alain’s eyes, horribly wide, stayed on Fenris for only a moment before turning to Azzan. Those wide eyes narrowed to slits. “How _dare_ you!”

The man stepped forward. Something shimmered around him, around Fenris’ neck as Fenris reached up to grab at nothing. On instinct, Azzan swept his staff around once more. For a moment, his mana took on its own form, altering itself into light and color, encircling the floor of his home an instant before Alain stepped on it. The glyph flashed. Alain got thrown back. He slammed against the wall beside the door, rattling the paintings. Fenris fell to the floor.

Azzan healed Fenris’ bruises nearly before Fenris got them. He scooted closer to his lover as he picked himself back up. Alain’s eyes glowed. He snarled from the ground, his gaze trapped on Azzan. Around the room, the air swirled and twisted. Fenris surged back to his feet, standing before Azzan. “What now?” he asked.

Azzan shivered. The air held the weight of death within it. Once again, he thought he saw something rippling in the air beside Alain. “Alain,” he said, even as he placed one hand on Fenris’ back. “I can see you and the demon aren’t irreparably linked. You can still turn away from it.”

“You bitch.” Alain held out his hand. “You let the elf girl keep her blood magic and her demon, but pretend to have a problem with mine? No. It’s _him_.” Alain glared at Fenris. “He’s the reason you’re acting like this. His hatred of magic–”

“Enough!” Fenris snapped. “You have no right to act the victim.” He swung. Azzan jerked. He moved, as well, before he even realized what he was doing, backing Fenris up with another glyph. The paralyzation effects barely activated before Alain broke it. Still, it gave Fenris the split second necessary to swing again, this time catching Alain on the collarbone. It threw him into the wall, splashed his blood onto the paint. Fenris swiped at the man again, giving no quarter.

Alain stopped the sword with one hand.

His face morphed before Azzan’s very eyes. His skin dulled in color, hardened. The sclera of his eyes disappeared until, like Meredith, nothing remained but the color of his irises, which changed to a brownish purple. He grinned. It wasn’t the smile of a human. “I just wanted to travel with you.” He pushed himself from the wall, forcing Fenris to fumble back, his hands still wrapped around the hilt of his greatsword. “I wanted someone interesting, someone fun. Someone unlike Decimus – so obsessed with gaining his freedom, even if it meant going into hiding. But not you.” Those eyes stayed on Azzan as he pushed Fenris back another step, then two. “Not you. You were willing to showcase yourself, even in front of a templar. You were everything I’d been looking for!”

Azzan stepped forward, passing Fenris for an instant, and blasted Alain back. His legs suddenly buckled, as he was reminded of how little mana he had left after fighting Meredith.

The man didn’t go flying, but the force made him lose his grip on Fenris’ sword, and with a lurch, it sunk into his side. Alain screamed. _“No!”_

The force of Alain’s own blast shoved Azzan back into the far wall. His teeth clacked together before he slumped to the floor. “Azzan!”

He looked up. Fenris had kept his feet by slamming his sword into the floor. Alain threw himself at him. Fenris had to duck behind his own sword to keep from getting caught by Alain’s hand as his nails grew and stretched into something akin to claws. Fenris yanked his sword from the floor and swung. Alain’s robe ripped from knee to thigh, but no blood spurted. Instead of attacking again, Fenris moved to stand before Azzan. “Your mana,” he hissed.

Azzan grimaced. He could feel how empty he was. He felt lightheaded, almost dizzy. He took a deep breath. “We all fought Meredith. Even him.”

“Only one of us made it his mission to save everyone, however,” Fenris said.

All right, fair point.

Alain’s aura filled the room. The growling from Aegis cut off. Azzan turned to find his mabari wobbling where he stood, trapped in place as his legs buckled. Aegis’ life force dropped abruptly. Azzan made some horrified noise and pulled on the dregs of his mana to save him. Alain grinned. “There it is,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

The room glowed gold.

“Azzan,” Fenris hissed.

Alain’s aura _pushed_. There was little else to describe it; he could feel the presence of the demon trying to soak itself within the room, within the space of his own aura. Trying to _merge_ with his, or perhaps to take ownership of it. He and Faith shuddered as one. Worse, the more it pressed against his protective circle, the more blood pooled around Alain’s body. Alain was _feeding_ off of them. Fenris stepped into Alain’s space, into the blood and refuse that the demon spewed from itself like bile. The feel of him wavered within Azzan’s aura, even as he roared and swung high, aiming for Alain’s neck.

“ _The Maker is with us! His Light shall be our banner, and we shall bear it through the gates of that city and deliver it to our brothers and sisters awaiting their freedom within those walls!”_

Gold washed through his vision. Faith asked a lot of him, yet still, he acquiesced. His consciousness was his, though Faith was a part of his soul in a way nothing could express. In one single moment, he let himself go. _Remember,_ he thought to the spirit. _Nothing is more important than the people we love._

It was like sinking beneath the water with his eyes open. He could see the world around him, could feel, as if waking from sleep, his legs move to carry him forward. Alain’s unholy gaze caught on his and flamed. Literally flamed. Faith stood before those fires and battled the aura back until it merely whispered along his skin. The spirit moved his body to Aegis’ side and knelt down, nearly falling, unused to the feel of flesh and bone. Lightly, his arms reached out and gripped Aegis’ head. _“‘If you would live, and live without fear, you must fight.’”_

His voice sounded a bit off – light, breathy, little more than air, and oddly accented. Still, the words focused Faith’s mana and allowed a tendril of itself to slip down his fingers. He could suddenly _feel_ the resistance of the barrier encasing Aegis. It was as if the very air had solidified around the hound, holding him fast. It triggered a thought in his mind just as Alain ducked Fenris’ blow and reached for his staff. Blood pooled around Alain’s hands.

_Fenris!_

“ _Inamorato!”_ Faith reached out toward Fenris. Light shone around Fenris, so bright a gold it looked almost white. Fenris paused in the act of wrenching his sword before him once more to try to block. Alain’s supply of blood abruptly cut off.

Alain snapped his head up. “I knew it,” he said, and grinned widely. “I _knew_ it! You’re _just_ like me. Look at you! Letting your demon out to play.” He burst out laughing. “Yes! This is as it should be. Just you and me, nothing and no one in the way.” He held out his staff. “Let’s dance, love!”

Faith swung Azzan’s staff out as if something tangible was coming for him. He felt an impact sing up his arms and into his blood.

“Hawke, don’t you _dare,_ ” Fenris hissed.

Aegis ran, nails scrabbling on the floor, and launched himself up on his hind legs. His teeth clamped down on Alain’s wrist.

Faith twisted his father’s staff and crashed it into the stonework at his feet. Fenris stumbled for a moment before catching himself. _“For there is no darkness in the Maker’s Light, and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.”_ Fenris glowed bright blue. Aegis managed to keep his hind legs onto the floor, and with the leverage, the mabari forced Alain to bend to it. Fenris thrust his sword into Alain’s weakened shoulder, matching the wound he’d given the man before. Alain screamed. _“I am not alone.”_

Alain glared at him. “You will be.”

One clawed hand sunk into Aegis’ chest. The mabari let out a high-pitched whine. Its jaw grew slack. Alain threw him aside like a wet towel. Blood splattered the walls. Fenris grunted, trying to push Alain back. His sword sunk deeper, yet Alain didn’t so much as twitch. Instead Aegis’ blood swirled around Alain’s body. The wound from the sword closed around the weapon itself. Fenris grimaced and yanked. For a moment, the sword refused to budge. When it finally did, it exited with a squelch, and barely before Alain’s claws gutted Fenris like a fish.

Gold encased Aegis as he whimpered on the floor. Azzan felt Faith tremble slightly within him. It didn’t pant or gasp or fall to its knees, but still, he could feel its life force slipping away. They were linked. If Faith fell, so would he. _Switch,_ he said.

But Faith refused. _And the soldiers of the demon charged, spears thirsting for the blood of the Maker’s children._

Just as Faith predicted – or felt, with its greater link to the Fade – Alain’s demon called its minions forward. Shades filled the corners of the room; rage demons surged on either side of Fenris; a desire demon touched Azzan’s arm. Faith jerked away, something like disgust flickering within it. This desire demon had twisted from its meaning, from its purpose. There was something like pity, and hate. Faith saw these creatures as perversion.

Fenris ducked low, forced to retreat when both rage demons tried to grab him. _Give me control!_ he demanded again, and this time, Faith ceded to his will. “Get to the main room!” Azzan ordered, the gold around him bursting into its own fire. He lit glyphs beneath the creatures’ feet, sending some flying, freezing others as they chased Fenris into the next room. “Orana!” he shouted. “Keep clear!”

He – Faith – could feel her, hovering near the hidden room, not quite within. She should be hidden. She wasn’t.

He stopped and grabbed Aegis on his way out of the room. “Hawke!” Fenris turned at the doorway, only to find Azzan dragging his mabari away from the clustered foyer. With a frustrated noise, he returned and stood by Azzan’s side. The shades he’d thrown collected themselves. Alain watched it all.

The shades came for him, their movements oddly coordinated. Fenris tried to head them off, only to meet both rage demons as they clogged the foyer entrance. The desire demon chuckled behind them. “Hawke!” Fenris snapped. “The pack! It’s ready!”

The pack? He looked beyond Aegis’ body and saw a small sack, stuffed with what must have been provisions for their trip. Fenris would have grabbed health potions. Stamina potions.

 _Mana_ potions.

The desire demon seemed to notice at the same time. It raced for the middle of the room.

 _Trust me, Faith_ , he said silently, and cut off his connection with the spirit. He reached out one hand and clenched his fingers into a fist. He created a barrier for the demon, and crushed the barrier down onto the one within it.

The demon screamed.

He scurried out from Aegis’ side, murmuring a quick apology to the injured hound. The shades chased him. His mana was nonexistent within him; an empty hole where his strength used to be loomed large and eerie in his mind. He snatched the sack and yanked it up as the shades crowded around him. He looked at Alain, still watching coolly from the other side of the foyer, before his vision was covered by claws. Each raked into him. A couple scraped ineffectually against the metal of his armor, but many more sank deep. He winced and dug into the sack.

The sack did indeed have most of their potions and even some of their poisons and grenades. He grabbed a mana potion and hoisted the pack onto his back.

It was like drinking water for the first time in days. Like sucking down sweet honey after hours of licking salt. Tears of relief pricked his eyes as lyrium washed through his body, lighting up those dark corners within him. Despite the shades all around him, he sighed.

“ _Hawke!_ You’d best be alive back there!”

Fenris.

When he and Faith reconnected, it was as natural as breathing. He breathed deep, letting his aura spill out once again.

Aegis struggled to his feet as Azzan healed him. He growled low in his throat and ran for the shades as they smothered Azzan. Azzan held up his hands. “Aegis, catch!” He blasted the shades away. As ordered, Aegis leaped, grabbing one by the throat. He pulled it down and wrenched it back and forth. Its neck snapped.

Fenris fell back, his lyrium so powerful it lit the room behind him blue, even as the fires of the rage demons poured their orange glow over the entrance. Each creature grabbed him, heedless of the sword cleaving through their fiery flesh like trying to cut air. Azzan shored him up, as well, letting his magic seep into Fenris’ skin. It used to be that such a thing would make Fenris shudder slightly, no matter how softly Azzan would try to encompass him. Now, the tension in Fenris’ shoulders actually dissipated. Without hesitation, Fenris called upon Azzan’s magic to punch through one of the rage demons, his sword sliding through its chest until his hands entered the flames. When they came out, the fire seemed to explode around him – no longer held together by the spirit. Its flames doused just before the desire demon broke free from Azzan’s cage.

Fenris, in the midst of turning to his second opponent, saw the creature stand straight once more and shouted, “prepare yourself, demon!” Its gaze, trapped on Azzan, turned to Fenris instead.

Unfortunately, three of the shades remained, and each of them had recovered from Azzan’s blast. Aegis came to his rescue, and together they were able to pick off the worst of the creatures. Azzan’s gaze kept flickering to Fenris, standing stalwart at the entrance to the foyer, and Alain, who had yet to move from beyond the wall. The wounds Fenris had managed to inflict on him had completely closed, leaving behind only the man’s blood. Blood that seemed to glow in his eyes as they watched Azzan, that gaze steady on him every time he looked.

_In the Great Choir of Silence, the High Priests gathered._

It took Azzan a moment before he understood Faith’s warning, but when he did, he grimaced. _I know_ , he said back. Even as Aegis took down a second shade and Azzan managed to pick off a third, he knew. Alain was waiting. He was building something, something more like an army, or perhaps simply preparing for an attack much stronger than what he’d used previously. _One or more?_ He asked.

_The legions of dead slaves rose to the zenith of the black sky._

Shit.

“Aegis, take the shade. Fenris!” He looked to his lover. Fenris was lacerated up and down his left arm, enough that he faltered when swinging his sword. Azzan grimaced and healed him, only to feel his stock of mana running low once more. He winced. The instant Aegis started chewing on the last shade, Azzan reached behind him for the pack.

He hand stopped just over his opposite shoulder.

He grimaced. Opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

He felt a sudden swell, as if some noxious gas was being released just beneath his feet. Faith pulsed against him, and with a shudder, he gave the spirit control once more. Immediately, Faith loosed its strength around him, pushing at the barrier encasing him. He felt the warped edges of the demon’s power bend around him just before something grabbed the pack on his back. _What?_

Faith stopped pushing so suddenly the oily slickness of the demon’s touch reverberated inside him. The pack on his back exploded.

Faith did everything it could, but the shockwave of demonic power wasn’t the problem. The problem was the explosions from the grenades, the fire and pitch, the sudden influx of broken glass. Unable to move to defend himself, the shards embedded themselves in his back, his arms, his neck, the back of his head. The pitch seared into the wounds. The fire burned against his skin. He opened his mouth to scream and nothing came out. The sack hung loose on his back, likely torn to ribbons. His armor felt soaked. Faith struggled to heal him, even as the feeling of Voracity rose around him in a sudden maelstrom, the demon opening its jaws to devour him. When before Alain had been standing back in the foyer, now he was stepping forward, past Fenris’ battle until he stood just in front of Hawke, his eyes glowing purple like some dark fire. That aura was visible around him, a line of purple-black that trailed like smoke from every inch of his skin. Alain reached for him. A desperate surge of power from Faith burst through a part of the thick miasma around him.

“Hawke!”

He tried to turn his head, tried to focus on Fenris. When he still failed to move, he tried to tell Fenris to focus on his own fight. Nothing. He could hear the world around him, but he still couldn’t interact with it. _Faith. Anything?_

_There I saw the Black City, towers all stain’d, gates once bright golden forever shut._

That was a no, then.

“You were supposed to be everything,” Alain breathed. “Everything I’d been looking for. And instead you’re just like the rest. Interested only in _running_. In _protecting_. What about your adventures to the mountain, to the Bone Pit, to the coast? What happened to all that frenetic energy I saw all those years ago?” Alain traced his thumb over Azzan’s brow, down the curve of it to his eye. He pressed hard. Azzan hissed. “Now you use it only for that elf.” Alain pulled back enough for Azzan to see what that aura around the man was conjuring. Shade upon shade sprang to life within his room, pulled from Voracity’s lair to his home. He gritted his teeth. _Faith!_

Gold light burned around him. It pulsed, pushing the creatures back. He felt the barrier around him give once more.

“No,” Alain said. “Not this time.” The shades grabbed him. Their claws dug into his arms, even as they dragged him down to his knees. The barrier bubbled around him, letting his knees slam into the floor. He glared up at Alain.

“Azzan! No!” He heard fighting happening beside him, grunts as Fenris tried to reach him. He swallowed hard as Alain leaned over him.

They’d failed. They’d practiced, and trained, and fought impossible battles. Together, he and Fenris had managed to escape the clutches of Meredith and her templars. Yet still they had failed. He would die. And he held no doubt that Fenris would die, as well.

Because he’d failed.

Finally, Faith pushed the barrier out, away from him, for a moment so hard that the shades held the barrier and not his arms. The opportunity would not come again.

Magic flowed through him. With the barrier momentarily loose, he could reach out, far enough to push his mana beyond his body. He used it like a great weight, filling the barrier with energy until it trembled. Gold filled his vision.

The barrier broke with a great bang, and suddenly he was screaming. Pain sang up and down his back and neck; the wetness he’d thought he’d felt was suddenly sticky and smothering. And within it was poison, a burning so strong it felt like his flesh was sizzling off his bones. The scream turned into one of agony. He blasted everything away, only to sag to the floor.

“ _Azzan!”_

He shot out another burst of magic, trying to push back the shades before they managed a killing blow while he was vulnerable. Still, despite the push, he felt someone nearby. He barely managed to push himself to his knees before Alain’s hand wrapped around his throat. His breath shorted in his lungs. He reached up to grab Alain’s wrist.

“I gave you everything,” Alain hissed. Purple darkness crackled like lightning around him; Faith flinched from the feel. “You were supposed to be everything!”

Pain seared through Azzan’s chest, up his lungs and into his throat. Alain’s strength was more than Azzan would have thought him capable. His face, contorted with both rage and an unnatural facade, gazed at him with glowing eyes. Azzan shoved again and again, pushing with the full, undiluted force of his magic. Nothing. He reached up to move Alain the old-fashioned way, but Alain’s skin, when he touched it, felt like rock. He tried to grab the man’s eyes and finally riled the man into action – one hard backhand later, and Azzan was reeling, unsure of direction or even color. His eyesight dimmed. His cheek burned.

“ _Hawke!_ Azzan, please!”

He couldn’t breathe. _Faith,_ he called, but the spirit could barely answer for the feel of the demon touching them. All he got from the spirit was the feeling of _wrongness_ the demon radiated.

The edges of his vision began to dim. He tried to think of something to do, something to get Alain off of him. His head buzzed. Pounded. He wanted to imprison Alain, but did he have the magic for it? Did he have enough magic for anything?

Faith offered itself once more. He felt the aura inside him, around, grow hot once more. He tried to breathe, to tame the heat, but there was no air. He couldn’t. He couldn’t! _Fenris!_

He tried to twist Alain’s wrist. Tried to kick the man’s legs out. Tried to shove him away with his staff. He heard Fenris still fighting far beyond him. Trying to get to him. Trying, trying, the both of them, and yet still failing. He sent out whatever magic he had left, trying to give any and all to Fenris, to Aegis, wanting them to keep fighting. To live. No matter what.

Alain’s fingers dug in farther, until, despite the numbness crawling over his body, Azzan could feel the nails of the man’s fingers cutting into him. His fingers still pried at Alain’s, but he couldn’t feel them anymore. His mouth kept opening for air, but none came, only a sick sucking sound as he struggled.

Suddenly Alain’s fingers went lax and he could breathe again. He used the last of his strength to throw himself to the side. Before he landed, he was already coughing, gasping in air through every strain. He caught a wobbly glimpse of blonde hair and a small frame, and a greatsword twice the frame’s size. “Leave my master alone!” Orana said as Azzan tried to hack up his lungs and fill them at the same time.

“You little bitch,” Alain growled. Azzan heard the clang of metal on the floor. He forced his eyes to focus enough to see the greatsword on the floor, to see Alain turning away from the weapon to Orana. Azzan grabbed the mage’s ankle.

“Don’t touch her.” His voice scratched so hard against his throat tears spurted in his eyes. Alain kicked him away. “Don’t! She has nothing to do with this!”

“You would protect her. After she attacked me!” Alain kicked him again, this time getting him on the temple. For a moment, the whole world turned black. “How dare you choose her over me. How dare you choose anyone over me!”

“She was just protecting me,” Azzan said. He opened one eye, but the other refused to do as commanded. Blood trickled over the eyelid. “The same way you used to!”

“Then she should receive the same thanks I did! Death. And if you won’t give it to her, then I will.”

“No!” The word scraped liked sand against his abused throat. Gold flew around him, curled along his hairline, but his throat still felt closed. He coughed, then, forgoing breath, shouted, “run!” He sent the golden arches of Faith’s essence toward Orana, trying to give her whatever strength he could. He heard her steps as she raced away.

Once more, he struggled to stand. His back still felt like it was on fire, still felt stuck by a thousand thorns, but he could feel the poison being beaten back, the glass being slowly removed from beneath his skin. Faith was tired, depleted, giving away its life force more than its magic now, but it was still trying. Despite the pain, he had to keep trying, too.

His legs shook as he forced them to take his weight. He moved to stand straight and nearly blacked out. Blood rushed in his ears; his vision doubled. He grabbed his throbbing temple and felt blood on his fingers. He winced. His staff remained in his hand despite everything. He used it for balance. Where was Orana?

He wiped his blood off his eye. His mana was completely empty, a dark pit in the middle of his soul. Only Faith gave him power, and he could feel the strain on the spirit as if it was his own. Essentially, it was. If Faith gave too much of its essence away, it would die. And with it, so would he. And judging by the burn, as if his skin had turned to flames, that possibility was looking more and more like an inevitability.

He saw Alain. He saw Aegis, as well, struggling to hold off both the shades remaining from Alain’s second horde and Alain himself as he made to follow after Orana. Azzan couldn’t see her, but from where Alain was looking, he imagined she’d run for the secret path to Darktown. He slammed his staff into the ground and focused the gold spinning dizzily around him until it nearly gouged his glyph into the stone. Then he dared a glance to see how Fenris was doing.

Thankfully, no matter how desperately low his magic sank, he’d still kept Fenris within his aura. The elf had cuts and abrasions over every last inch of skin as he cut down a shade and struck the desire demon in the head with the butt of his sword. Azzan knew they were in the middle of battle. He knew they were facing death. But he couldn’t help but see Fenris the way he always did in the heat of battle. When he fought, Fenris came _alive_. There was something in the man that rose like fire from the edges of death. Fenris was movement, even when still. But when he _did_ move – oh, then he was like a god, one of steel and determination. Bared teeth, furious roars – Fenris was his most untamed when he swung his sword, destroying the world that tried to cage him. Like a vengeful deity, he split the earth with his conviction, carved a path with his courage.

Now there was a different feel to him. At first, Azzan couldn’t explain it, though he was drawn to go to him even more usual. As fluid as Fenris’ movements always were, there was a jerkiness to them now. As forthright as Fenris’ gaze always was, always staring straight ahead, there was a sort of squinted edge to them now.

Finally, as Fenris sliced through the last rage demon and it blazed lava-bright for an instant, he understood. Those bright sparks of fire sparkled in the lines of tears on Fenris’ cheeks.

It had been close. It had been close enough that, this time, the one standing helplessly while the one he loved fell had been Fenris, not him. He turned away. He’d never wanted Fenris to know how he’d felt while they’d faced Hybris. He certainly hadn’t wanted Fenris to feel like this, as if he’d lost Azzan.

Aegis snarled at Alain, but the man didn’t move from his place upon Azzan’s glyph. Azzan dared focus on the desire demon, casting a second glyph to push the demon away from Fenris. “Aegis, help Fenris,” he said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the racket of the demons’ snarls. Aegis hesitated for a moment, then raced up and grabbed the desire demon’s arm. On a screech, it tilted down. Azzan gave it a push with his magic to put it on the ground, and Aegis tore into it. He ran up to Fenris, daring to leave Alain behind. “I’m all right,” he promised, even as glass skewered him further with every step.

Fenris snarled. Tears were still falling from the corners of his eyes. “The hell you are!” He sliced through another shade. Two remained, and the desire demon. And Alain. “Your magic,” he said, and choked on the word. He gritted his teeth again and swung. Each swing was harder than the last, pushing the shades back into the wall. He stabbed through one. He sword jammed into the stone. “You can’t pretend you’re all right.”

Azzan didn’t chase after him further. The fire rising inside him was so hot he could barely breathe through it. Faith was too tired to speak to him anymore. He could feel his own limbs growing heavy. “Right,” he said. Still, he kept his aura going. For as long as he could.

Fenris had sweat cooling on his brow. His entire body was motion, nearly frenzied. Aegis, meanwhile, had to jump away from the desire demon, who nearly skewered him with her claws. Azzan lifted his staff, ready to fight, only for Fenris to snarl at him. He lowered it again. Right. If it wasn’t absolutely necessary, then he shouldn’t use his magic.

It was just that he was used to time being on their side in fights. This was the first time in which it wasn’t.

He kept himself standing while Aegis and Fenris routed the desire demon. They’d peppered it with cuts by the time Alain freed himself from Azzan’s glyph, but it still stood. Azzan moved in-between Fenris and Alain. The act made Fenris shout at him. “Alain,” he tried, but stopped. They were far past words, and Alain would not stop to hear them. He whipped his staff around, let the crystal focus channel the returning threads of his mana, and hit the man in the chest. Alain barely flinched.

He grimaced. He still couldn’t use magic. That left physical combat.

He swung his staff again, this time catching the thick side of the crystal on Alain’s side. Alain grunted at the impact, then again when Azzan dared punch out another bit of his mana, sending the bolt straight into his flesh. Faith was a furnace within him, burning his organs to ash. His limbs trembled as he swung his staff around to smack Alain full in the face. It sounded like he was hitting rock. From Alain’s reaction, he might as well have been. The man grabbed Azzan’s staff.

Azzan kicked him.

It really was like hitting brick. He winced as his foot connected with Alain’s chest. With his other hand, Alain grabbed his leg, as well.

“Aegis!” Azzan shouted, but the mabari was already racing forward, having seen Azzan in trouble. Aegis launched itself onto his hind legs, his jaws wide, and clamped down on Alain’s arm. The mage simply looked down as Aegis gnawed on him.

“You would sic your dog on me.” Purple eyes glowed hatefully at him. “After everything!”

Azzan struggled to free his leg, his staff. When both failed, he let go of the staff and grabbed Alain’s jaw, twisting it to the side, away from Aegis, until the man couldn’t see the mabari anymore. The effort of moving that neck was like rolling a rock up a hill. “You’ve attacked us all. Threatened our lives. And you dare pretend to be the victim still?!” He shoved as hard as he could, finally freeing his foot. He barely regained his balance before Alain had literally shaken off Aegis. Azzan reached for his dagger. Alain snaked out a hand and grabbed Azzan’s throat once more.

Faith cringed away, once again trying to pull away from the demon’s influence. Only this time, the moment Faith tried to distance itself from him, his limbs went numb, and he folded into the hand around his throat. Faith gave off an almost panicked feeling.

 _The Archon followed the path of fire writ large across the sky of Tevinter,_ Faith said as Alain crushed his larynx, _and upon the plain where once great Barindur had stood he arrived, girded in lyrium and silverite, bearing in his left hand a staff of gold and emeralds, wreathed in lightning, and upon his right the ring of the Ferryman, symbol of Darinius and the Might of the Imperium itself._

Azzan barely managed a feeling of confusion as he struggled madly in Alain’s hold. He stabbed the man’s arm. He expected the blade to break, but instead the steel embedded itself in Alain’s skin, despite how it looked and felt. Alain howled. Azzan ripped the dagger out and staggered back.

 _Girded in lyrium and silverite!_ Faith nearly shouted in the back of his head.

He fell to his knees, his grip on his staff faltering enough for him to fail to balance on it properly. His aura faltered; the golden color of his mana started glowing slightly… red.

He hung his head.

Alain screamed in fury. His magic lashed out around the room; paintings smashed, tables flew against the walls. Azzan tried to shield himself, but he already knew he wouldn’t be able to keep from falling back from sheer force, and then the killing blow would come. Then Fenris was there, standing in front of him, greatsword planted in the floor, and Alain’s fury crashed into and around them. Fenris stood as Azzan’s shield.

 _Lyrium and silverite_ , he realized, and saw the blue glow lighting Fenris’ body with ethereal fire. Reflecting off his armor.

He saw the desire demon, nearly cut in half by one of Fenris’ attacks, stumble forward. It reached out as if to grab at Fenris’ back. He threw his dagger, almost surprised when it sank into the demon’s collarbone. The demon grabbed the thing, even as it stumbled. Alain’s magic tore a statuette from upon the mantle. It crashed into the demon’s skull, and the demon fell. Aegis ran over to bite its neck, just in case, then, when done, pounced, jaw still dripping something like blood, and took down one of the last shades. A painting crashed close to the mabari’s head, but Aegis didn’t so much as flinch. To Aegis, the demon’s rage meant nothing.

Azzan straightened his staff and wrenched himself to his feet.

“You!” Alain spat at Fenris. The elf didn’t even move. “You’re in-between us again. For the last time!”

Azzan had to stumble back as Fenris caught Alain’s attack. With the demons gone, Fenris was once again in his place before Hawke, standing sentry. Alain tried to claw into him, only for Fenris to rebuff the assault. Azzan felt the pull of magic around Alain then and rushed forward once more. “Faith,” he whispered, only to feel the spirit shudder. His legs nearly left him.

Against the Arishok, he’d had time to run, to regain his mana, and had attacked the Qunari only sparingly. His mana hadn’t been eroded at nearly the rate it was here, with so many enemies and so little space. He’d noticed earlier times in his life when his mana had run low, but it had never fallen to this extreme. He body felt so hot, and yet he found himself shivering as he grabbed Fenris’ shoulder from behind. When Voracity’s aura encompassed Fenris, in captured him, too. Something like validation entered that burning gaze.

“Fenris,” he said, and found his voice barely able to raise above a whisper. He didn’t think it was the demon’s influence. “May I do something unconscionable?”

“Killing him isn’t immoral, Hawke!” Fenris hissed. Azzan could feel the strain of Fenris’ muscles as he tried to move.

Alain stepped forward.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. His heart rate skittered in his chest as Alain sidled up before Fenris, moving around his blade as if he was a statue. “I meant something much worse.”

 _Free him!_ he begged of Faith. _I don’t care if I die; I just want him safe!_

Once again, he felt Faith try to push away the prison encasing himself and Fenris. The spirit focused on Fenris, on his hands. He felt the fire turn to lava, to something akin to death. “As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,” he whispered, “she should see fire and go towards Light.”

 _The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,_ Faith said, a breath across the back of his consciousness. _And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword._

“Please,” he begged as Alain raised his hand. His claws grew and shone like steel. “Maker, give me strength!”

He couldn’t say what he did. Just that he gave _everything_. And Fenris, arms still shaking with the effort to _move_ , suddenly did. His arms rose, and he swung up into Alain’s body. Red steel clanged against the rock of Alain’s body, then broke through. On a cry, Alain jumped away. His claws retracted so he could hold his chest.

Azzan fell against Fenris. His aura died.

“ _Azzan!”_ Fenris turned as Azzan slipped down his back and grabbed him. Azzan felt his hands like cool water. Beneath the touch of skin was that lyrium, burning bright, an oasis in his desert. He shuddered even as he curled into it, his body reaching for the lyrium instinctively. “Azzan, talk to me, please.” Fenris slammed his sword into the floor beside them and held Azzan to his chest, so close he could hear Fenris’ heart beneath his armor. Azzan managed to open his eyes in time to see Fenris pale and pull his hand from Azzan’s back. He could only guess how much blood Fenris saw. “Talk to me,” Fenris said again. His hand returned, this time cupping his cheek. He caught sight of Azzan’s gaze and held his breath. He looked horribly close to crying again.

“No,” Alain said. “No! You will die in my hands, or you won’t die at all!”

Fenris glared back at the man. “Bastard! How dare you pretend to love him!” He made to put Azzan down again and pick up his sword. To leave Azzan on the floor and continue the fight alone. Azzan tried to grab his hand back. He missed. The action served to make Fenris pause, however, even as he grabbed his blade.

“Love? I only wanted to travel with him. To be with him. To be the person he wanted to be with more than any other!” Mana spat like fire from around Alain. It sliced into the walls until they cracked. Azzan heard something above them shift. “I wanted him! He was mine!”

“He’s never been yours!” Fenris turned them around, keeping Alain in his sight, his knuckles white where he clung to his sword, to Azzan. His body shook with the effort of staying where he was.

“I need you,” Azzan said. Fenris’ gaze shot down, even as Alain screamed, ranted that Azzan _was_ his, that he’d seen him _first_. Fenris bent down to hear him. “I need you. Please. And I’m sorry for it.”

“Anything,” Fenris said, voice harsh. Azzan shuddered.

“Your lyrium.”

Fenris froze. Azzan hid his face in Fenris’ stomach, ashamed that he’d even asked. Ashamed that he was at the point where he had to. He never wanted to treat Fenris like his private potion. He could only imagine what Danarius had done, how Danarius had used Fenris as his personal mana pool. Personal _blood_ pool.

Fenris yanked his greatsword down, scraping it across the floor, and yanked the blade down his arm. Blood spilled from the wound. Lyrium glowed within it. Around it.

Azzan yelped. He surged up, fingers instinctively halting the blood flow. Yet he could feel, within the blood, around it, alongside it, that burst of lyrium, and he leaned forward, nearly ready to suck Fenris’ blood to get at it.

 _No._ No blood magic. He wouldn’t harm Fenris. He wouldn’t become anything like Danarius or Alain.

“Stay away from him! I won’t let you have him!” Alain ran forward. Azzan felt Fenris’ muscles as they moved all around him; his legs corded, turned to everite as Fenris surged without hands to his feet. He felt Fenris wrap one arm around him, holding him to that lean chest as the elf managed to raise enough of his sword with one hand to fend off Alain’s strike. Alain tried to grab the sword with his claws and strike with the other. Fenris swept the sword along the ground, nearly taking out the man’s feet. Alain was forced to retreat again.

Azzan couldn’t ingest the lyrium, but he could feel it against his fingertips, could breathe it in the more Fenris activated it. And he did. Fenris stood lit within the room like a blue flame. Azzan wrapped himself around him, as close as he could get, and soaked the lyrium up like a sponge. Mouthed at the markings on Fenris’ neck like sucking down ambrosia. As soon as he felt his feet stop knocking together, he reactivated his aura. Fenris hummed with pleasure in his ear.

The sound made Azzan shiver. He’d never thought to associate it with him, with his magic. A sound so low and deep it made Fenris’ chest reverberate like a cat’s purr. It made him wonder if Fenris had always reacted like that when Azzan had poured his aura over him. Made him wonder if Fenris had always found comfort, even pleasure, from the feel of Azzan’s magic.

If he had known, would he have felt so isolated from Fenris’ heart?

He felt the clang of claws and metal as each impact reverberated over Fenris’ skin. He dared give Fenris a bit more strength, a bit more endurance. Faith circled feebly around him, sucking on the lyrium even more greedily than he, recovering as best it could. He breathed the scent in deeply, kissed the line of blue until the lightning sparked against his lips. Line after line of lyrium flowed down Fenris’ long neck, so close to where Fenris’ pulse touched the surface of his skin. He healed Fenris’ self-inflicted wound, not wanting lyrium that flowed with blood. Wanting the purer form. He curled as close as he could, nearly wrapped his legs around Fenris’ middle, and sucked at the skin. Fenris’ pulse skittered.

“I’m all right,” he said, whispering the words into Fenris’ skin in-between blows. The only reaction he received was a tightening of Fenris’ grip, though the skin beneath his lips seemed to tremble. There was no way Fenris could continue fighting like this. Without his full range of motion, he would at some point fail to stop Alain’s attack, and they would both suffer for it. So Azzan pushed off of Fenris, turned around, and blasted Alain back.

As usual, the attack did little more than blow Alain’s hair away from his face. But Alain paused in surprise – the magic he used was not gold, but was again his own bright blue. “Wha–?” Alain started. Fenris didn’t let him finish.

He shoved Alain back with a quick snap, hitting the pommel of his sword against Alain’s head. Azzan ducked down and away as Fenris’ arm rose, moved out of Fenris’ reach, and let Fenris charge forward. With a roar, the elf crashed his sword down upon Alain, forcing another retreat. Then another, as he beat down upon Alain’s claws once more. Alain pulled away again, then, with one outstretched hand, grew his claws to match the length of Fenris’ sword.

Azzan pushed his mana into those long, corded muscles he knew so well, into the blood pumping through Fenris’ body. Returned the feel of that lyrium back into those sigils branding his skin like moonlight. With it, Fenris’ dodge looked more like teleportation. One instant, he was standing before Alain, the next, he was hunched low, knees bent until his calves touched his thighs. His sword fell, dropped deliberately from his hands the instant Fenris had felt Azzan’s magic hastening his every move. He reached up his hand and burst it through the side of Alain’s torso. This time when Alain tried to back away, he froze. His eyes widened. “You can’t,” Alain said. “He’s _mine.”_

“No,” Fenris growled. “He is mine. You were never worthy of him.”

The muscles in Fenris’ arm clenched. Something exploded dully. Alain fell to the floor.

Silence descended over the house like a pall. Azzan searched the room for any remaining trace of Voracity, but neither he nor Faith could feel anything.

He dropped to the floor.

In an instant, Fenris was by his side, Blade of Mercy forgotten entirely, left behind as Orana’s had been. Fenris touched him. Azzan fell into the touch of that lyrium. He sucked in a breath and pulled away. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I never–”

“Are you hurt?” Fenris grabbed his shoulders, looking him over before he could even respond. “Can you heal? Is…” He took a deep breath. “Is your spirit all right?”

For a moment, Azzan couldn’t find the words to answer. Something stuck in his throat. He almost asked if he’d misheard. Surely Fenris hadn’t just voiced concern for Faith.

Footsteps creaked. Fenris whirled, teeth pulled back, lyrium bursting bright once more. Azzan nearly fell on him like some beast. He barely thought to turn his head to the sound. He already knew it wasn’t anyone threatening; Aegis would have warned them. As it was, he caught the brightly colored eye peeking around the corner and smiled. “Orana.”

She looked down at the fallen body of Alain, then at the destruction of the room. Seeing nothing that would jump out and swipe at her, she hurried forward. “Master! Are you all right?”

He held up a hand as if to tell her to not worry. When he made to stand, however, Fenris growled a warning at him. Despite the trembling of his limbs and the fluttery, weak feeling of Faith in the back of his mind, the sound made him smile. _Can my aura heal you?_ he asked the spirit.

He felt something like affirmation before Faith’s tired thoughts slipped into his mind. _Find me well within Your grace._ He thought for a moment the spirit was agreeing that he could heal it, but the feeling he got was different. The he understood. The spirit, with enough time to recover, would be able to heal on its own. Because it was a spirit of Faith, and needed only to dwell within the space of one who believed. His _belief_ would heal Faith more than his aura.

That settled, he pulled on Fenris’ shoulder until the man turned back around. He looked a sight. Blood speckled his cheeks and jaw, ran down from a cut Azzan’s aura had already healed. His eyes were wide still, showing off that deep forest green. His dark brows pulled low over his eyes, clearly visible beneath that snow white hair, painted ice-blue by the glow of his lyrium. Azzan carefully pulled his hand away before he reached for those glowing lines again. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“You should be.” He flinched. He had been expecting reproof, but not that level of anger. “Never again. Do you hear me?” Fenris’ voice sounded a bit choked. Azzan’s gaze caught on those tear tracks, still defined on those sharp cheeks. “Never again.”

Azzan was already shaking his head. “Of course not. I’ll never use your lyrium again. I didn’t want to to begin with, I swear it. I’m so–”

“ _I meant dying, you idiot!”_ Fenris wrapped his hands around Azzan and pulled him close. Azzan’s wounds on his back had finally healed, but the skin was still new, and raw. The embrace was right on the edge of hurting. But Azzan would never say it. Fenris’ fists may have been clenched tight, but his hands shook. “You’re supposed to stand behind me. Safe behind me! Do you understand?”

There had been too many enemies. Alain had been able to freeze people in place and had been intent on being alone with Azzan. Aegis had been injured.

He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“As for my markings,” Fenris said, gently pushing Azzan back enough for them to meet each others’ gazes once more. “I have hated them from the moment I received them. What they gave me. What they made me. What they were to _him._ How much Danarius wanted them, to the point of chasing me down for a decade to get them back. But this time – _listen_ to me, Hawke, dammit!” Azzan forced himself to maintain eye contact, no matter how much he wanted to shrink away from that intense stare. “For the first time in my life, these markings have become worthwhile. They saved your life.” Fenris smiled. The tension in him disappeared. His teeth shone blindingly white against his dark skin, as always. And, as always, the look was breathtaking. “For the first time, I’m happy I have them.”

Azzan’s breath whooshed out. “Oh.” He looked down. Fenris hadn’t stopped accessing his lyrium. The lines still glowed bright, bright blue. Was he… did he _want_ Azzan to take from it? From him? He blushed. “Oh.”

“What would you like me to pack your remaining possessions in?” Orana asked, disrupting their moment just before Azzan reached out to touch. He jerked like he’d been caught with his pants down. He cleared his throat and looked over. Orana stood with Aegis. The mabari’s tongue hung out as the hound grinned. It knew exactly what they’d been up to. He covered his face with his hands.

“We have little left of what we need,” Fenris said, answering for him. He thought of the pack that had burst and grimaced.

“I will gather what remains,” she said easily. “Non-perishables, changes of clothes. There are no more potions, but I can–”

“Wait.” Despite Fenris’ snarl of disapproval, Azzan got to his feet. Fenris hovered next to him for a moment before deeming him safe. Even then, he stayed close as Azzan moved to Orana’s side. “Orana. I should have just asked you before, and trusted that you would tell me the truth.” The young woman stared up at him. With that new bronze color, her eyes seemed almost luminous. She still loved bright, loud colors, even though she had more subtle options now. He was starting to see it as her style, her own tiny rebellion after being fit into a mold. He was beginning to love it almost as much as her. “Do you want to come with us?”

Orana’s eyes shone. She wrapped her fingers together and looked down. “I know you worry for me.”

Maker, he was a fool sometimes. Better than having home welcome his return was having his home with him, happily at his side. “You’re family, Orana. And you just showed you can take care of yourself.” He touched her shoulder. “You saved my life today.”

Orana looked back up. Upon seeing the look on his face, that shine returned to her gaze. She smiled. “Oh,” she said, much as he had just earlier.

“Will you come with us?” he asked, and suddenly she was hugging him.

“Oh, I promise to be useful! I’ll cook and I’ll clean, and I’ll learn how to fight.”

He hugged her back before she realized what she was doing and stopped. “You don’t have to be useful,” he said, voice going quiet. “I shouldn’t have asked you to stay. I want my whole family with me. Fenris, and Aegis, and you.” Aegis barked at the mention of his name. Going on a whim, Azzan lifted little Orana and swung her around. She clung tightly to him and shrieked. He put her back down, worried, only to see her grinning a mile wide.

“I’ll get everything packed!” she said, and raced away. Aegis yipped at her, then raced after her. Aegis had to know she was the most vulnerable person in the house; the mabari was likely taking on – “oh, you are such a brave dog! Such a good boy to your master! Yes, you are!” Or perhaps he simply wanted attention. Azzan grinned.

Fenris came up beside him. “Are you sure about this?” But Fenris didn’t look upset. He looked happy. “I’ve heard having family around leads to aggravation.”

“That’s why I’m taking with me the family I chose.” He placed his head against Fenris’ and leaned on his shoulder. The man took his weight easily. As always. “We’re free.”

In every sense of the word. Danarius was dead. Azzan’s stalker was finally dead. And, for better or worse, the Circle here could no longer imprison him.

“And on the run,” Fenris said. Azzan breathed deeply of the elf’s scent. The charged lightning was the heaviest, what with those lines of lyrium still burning. But the scent of earth and cinnamon would not be denied, and it was that which Azzan craved.

“Upset?”

Fenris hummed again, the sound so low it was merely a rumble against Azzan’s skin. “Content.” Fenris reached up and held Azzan closer.

“Me, too.” Azzan nuzzled him for a second before thinking. “We look a mess, and by now, the city will be filled with people trying to calm the fires.”

“Full of templars, you mean.”

Azzan winced. He didn’t want to imagine what was going on outside. They’d been lucky that Alain likely hadn’t wanted intruders, either. The feel of the demon surrounding them had to have been its power, cutting them off from the outside, masking every sound they’d made. “It won’t be long until they check this place.” He turned his gaze toward the library. “We should head through Darktown. It might start some fights, however.”

“Hawke.” Fenris snorted. “We both have the blood of our enemies wet upon our armors. Do you really think people, in this maelstrom, will pick a fight with a group like that, even with Orana in our ranks?”

Touché. He looked down at Alain’s corpse. He didn’t know what the man had been like. Not really. He’d thought he’d known. But once again, a mage he’d trusted had turned on him. Had never actually been on his side. He thought of Anders and grimaced. “I would have templars be like guards,” he blurted suddenly.

Fenris turned his head very slowly from where Orana and Aegis had disappeared. “What?”

“I would make templars like guards,” he said again, blushing a bit now. “If things could be… could be different. Better. Instead of locking us all up on what we _could_ do, recognize our freedoms until we’ve rescinded the right to have them.”

Fenris blew out a breath. “And the people hurt in the meantime?”

Azzan flinched. “Hurting people to ensure they don’t hurt people isn’t just.”

Fenris watched him for a short time. The lyrium finally returned to the milk-white of old scars. “I agree,” he said finally, slowly. “But it doesn’t matter right now.” Azzan’s cheeks flushed. He was right, of course. They weren’t safe yet. Fenris touched his cheek, wiped away the blood. His armor scratched against Azzan’s stubble. “I already know you would never want a system that hurt others. You don’t need to prove that to me. When the time is right, I want only to understand.”

Oh. “I love you,” Azzan said, the first thing that came to his mind.

Fenris rolled his eyes. “I know that, Hawke.” Fenris’ brows lowered. He started walking toward the library, following after Orana. “I love you, too,” he called back to him.

Orana ran out, bag on her shoulders, Aegis on her heels, and blew past them, running up the stairs, a breathless assurance that she would be finished soon on her lips. Fenris made to follow after. “I’m going to help her. You rest.”

“I’ll leave the _rest_ to you,” he said. Fenris faltered, then covered his face. “Did that one get your _nose_ out of joint? I promise not to rub your–”

“Maker, shut up.” Fenris grabbed the neck brace of his armor and pulled him down for a kiss. He shut up.

“Oh!” he heard from upstairs. “We’ll ask them when they’re done, Aegis.”

Aegis, apparently not one to be left waiting, howled. Fenris pulled away. “Ugh. _Family.”_

Happiness burst like lightning in his chest. He laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> It’s over. It’s disturbing to say it, but it’s over. It hasn’t hit me yet. Maybe later, when I realize I have nothing left to write for them here. In any case, I hope everyone enjoyed this adventure with Azzan and Fenris. Thank you so much for staying with me through this two-year journey.


End file.
